Green Is The Color Of Love
by The Munch
Summary: The steps it takes for a greenrider to convince an exdragonrider to try and reImpress after the tragic loss of his brown. During family disproval and many uprisings and challenges, they manage to find something more important than their goal. Edited
1. Prologue, A Tragedy

_Misuri Weyr 6 Turns Ago_

The sun shone brightly on the Weyr, but the air still seemed to be frigid, though it was a bit warmer than the usual weather. The Weyrling Training field was filled with dragons of different hues that were not quite fully grown yet. Each one had an eager rider standing by them, waiting for the orders from the Weyrlingmaster. The Weyrlingmaster stood at one end of the Training field, his silver dragon standing behind him eyeing all of the Weyrlings with whirling eyes. All the Weyrlings knew what today was, they had been looking forward to this day for quite some time. It was their final test, the day they would find out how much each had paid attention to the Weyrling Lessons. Today they could finally find out what they were made of, and go on to be part of the ranks of Dragonriders that filled Misuri Weyr. As each Weyrling finished harnessing their dragon and feeding them the necessary amounts of firestone, their eyes turned towards the edge of the field where the great silver dragon of their Weyrlingmaster and their master stood, waiting for all of the Weyrlings to finish.

One of these many Weyrlings was Z'kor and his brown Zieerth, probably the top of their class. Z'kor was one of the last ones to finish harnessing Zieerth, being extremely careful that all of the buckles were tightly strapped, and that none of the leather seemed to be eroding or loose. Z'kor was excited, and it was obvious in his trembling fingers that were busy tightening the straps once more, and making sure that Zieerth had gotten enough firestone. _We are ready,_ Zieerth told Z'kor. "Good," Z'kor said, smiling as he patted the brown's hide.

Now was the time when all could wait. It was time for the final decompression of nerves now that they had worked hard to make sure everything was perfect for this most special and important day. Z'kor looked around, spotting quite a few of his friends around, waiting as anxiously as he was for their chance, for their thrilling ride. "Not nervous are we?" a voice asked. It was none other than one of his closest friends, C'zan, a Copperrider. "You have no right to bug him, you silly oaf. You're about as nervous as he is," Rihanna, the fiery tempered new addition to the Queenriders responded. "Oh come off it. You'd think good ol' Iallith was gonna rise soon with the way you're biting at everyone," C'zan responded. "Both of you need to stop. We are all a bit nervous, as I'm sure you can admit," Z'kor responded. "Yeah, and that's what we have you for. You're the voice of reason. She's up on her high horse and you stop her," C'zan responded. "Leave it to the two of you to find reason to fight," Z'kor responded, "We'll all be riders soon, can't you put your fighting to the side for now?" Rihanna laughed. "I suppose, but C'zan should learn to respect those of us who now outrank him," she said with a jab. Z'kor smiled and shook his head. Leave it to his friends to be like this. It made one feel better about all that was happening.

"Weyrlings! Mount Your Dragons!" the Weyrlingmaster shouted so that all of the Weyrlings could hear. The three instantly snapped to attention. Z'kor, in the rush of adrenaline, was one of the first of the many Weyrlings to mount their dragons. The dragons would soon be at their full-size, and so it took more work to get astride the great beasts than it had only months before. Zieerth had seemed to jump sizes overnight, and had constantly complained of itch skin for a while. Now they would be stepping into the world of full-fledged riders, after this final test. Z'kor breathed deeply, waiting for the instructions to be given out. Soon enough, all his dreams and aspirations would be coming true. He would finally be a dragonrider.

"Alright, listen up now Weyrlings! Today is your test to become riders. Only if you pass this test will you be allowed to move on. Fail and you will need to retake this year of Weyrling Lessons. In a moment, each of you will be given a piece of hide that will give you a familiar location. You must /between/ there, and then you will be given your next set of instructions by the watchdragon at your assigned coordinates. I will know you are finished when your last instruction leads you here, back to this spot," the Weyrlingmaster told them. Moments later, one of his assistants handed Z'kor a roll of hide. He smiled, thanking the assistant before he scrabbled to unroll the scroll.

"Sajoer Hold," Z'kor read, after unrolling the scroll. Other dragons had already gone aloft and disappeared /between/ to their destinations. "Good luck," Rihanna said. "Yeah, you're going to need it," C'zan said jokingly. "We will all do fine," Z'kor replied, trying to keep his own nerves down. "Ready to go?" Z'kor asked, changing to talking to Zieerth. _Of course,_ Zieerth responded. "Then let's go, dear friend," Z'kor told the brown. The brown sprung aloft, wings snapping open as he ascended into the skies. Z'kor closed his eyes, and visualized the beautiful Sajoer Hold, complete with its stables. He remembered 'The Hall' and placed it where it belonged in his image. He also added the caves around the Hold that held the whers. Zieerth took the coordinates, and the pair went /between/.

One..., Two…, Three…. They appeared from /between/ over the Hold, and Z'kor sighed in relief. He noticed a few Weyrlings spiraling down towards where the watchdragon and his rider waited for them. Zieerth was the largest dragon and only brown to arrive at the station yet. Zieerth began his descent, diving speedily rather than in graceful circles like he should have. His wings snapped open, and he let himself glide slowly to the ground by the watchdragon. Z'kor jumped off the brown, and walked up to the watchrider in rather speedy steps. He received his next scroll, and opened it quickly as he walked back to Zieerth.

"On to Lraithin," the paper read. "Let's go," Z'kor told the brown. The brown heartily agreed, and started his ascent. Z'kor once more closed his eyes to visualize their coordinates. Lraithin was one of the most crowded Holds, mostly due to the large population of Chosen living there. The strange people, with dragon-like eyes and skin tones caused by disease, had always perturbed the young man. He had met a few, and their odd powers and appearance had always made him curious as to how such a thing could come from illness. It was also the Hold closest to the end of the Snowy Wastes, and so he could visualize the jungles not far off from the Hold proper. He also remembered the mountains of that area as well, and added them to the image. Zieerth popped /between/ when the image was complete.

Zieerth decided to take his descent to Lraithin slower, as the watchdragon was in a spot where tricky maneuvers would only get them run into by the other dragons swooping in. He spotted a familiar copper dragon landing. "C'zan is here," Z'kor commented. They landed, and Z'kor started up to get his newest scroll. C'zan was there, and had just received his. "Having fun yet?" he asked. "Of course, I'll be glad when it's all over though," Z'kor responded. "Rihanna's in a right mood. She and Iallith are flying like demons, diving in quickly and swooping out," C'zan commented. Z'kor laughed. "She was always one to take risks," he responded. "Well, we should keep pressing onwards," C'zan said. "Yeah, I'll see you later," Z'kor responded, taking his scroll and heading back towards Zieerth.

"Our next Hold is Cuhmesc," Z'kor told the brown. _Okay, sounds good,_ Zieerth responded, pumping his wings to give him altitude. Cuhmesc was the Hold with the most Chosen. It was the center of all of them, and Z'kor had always felt a bit odd about going there. He had figured it would be one of his stops, but he wanted to make it a quick one. It was closest to the Weyr, and thus the Weyr always seemed to have visitors from the Hold rooming in the guest quarters. Z'kor visualized its sweeping expanses with Misuri Weyr's peaks rising in the backdrop. Zieerth followed them.

Their trip to Cuhmesc was quick. There weren't many other pairs there when they arrived, and none of his friends were there to chat with. He'd caught a brief glimpse of gold before Iallith had transferred /between/, but that was it. So Z'kor had merely landed, collected his scroll, and gone.

The next Hold they had to visit was Natherie. Natherie was the first and oldest of the Holds that tithed to Misuri. It was one of the smaller Holds anyhow, but it did have a certain bearing of importance and need to be respected in its appearance. Z'kor stopped there quickly, already knowing the last of his stops was Kalnurrh.

Kalnurrh was the Hold that was the most normal, and was the Hold that gave the most fish. It was on a lake, so there were no surprises in that aspect. Z'kor liked this Hold the best, as it was where he had been Searched from. He was glad to see its familiar edifice once more. It really had been too long.

He landed, and after quickly greeting both watchdragon and rider, he was off again, with a scroll reading. "Congratulations! One short trip /between/ and you are home. Hit a target with a flaming breath and you have passed." Z'kor's excitement welled up inside him and burst forth. As he visualized Misuri he gave a whoop of joy and exhilaration. Then they went /between/ back to Misuri.

Zieerth reappeared in the Weyr, and both dragon and rider began searching for the target. A large silver flew by overhead, and flamed a large metal target that had been set up on a wall of the Weyr, one devoid of any weyrs or such. "That's the target, Zi," Z'kor told the brown. _I know, _Zieerth responded. He started towards it, ready to flame the target upon its coming into range.

There was a flash of movement on the edge of Z'kor's vision as a copper dragon appeared from /between/ inches behind them. "Zi!" Z'kor shouted. The brown dove suddenly, trying to dodge the flame. Searing heat overwhelmed Z'kor as the copper's flame ate at Zieerth, and flicked at Z'kor's back. The dragon screeched, twisting and writhing in pain. He was burned, and seemed to be on fire! Flame seared leather, metal melted, and dragon's screech and rider's scream melted into unison. Zieerth rolled, and Z'kor fell from his back, farther and farther. Everything went black moments before the rider hit the ground.

Z'kor woke up in the Infirmary a few days later, unable to make heads or tails of his surroundings. His body was wrapped in bandages and slathered in numbweed. He still hurt all over. "Zikor? Zikor are you awake?" the Healer who had come into the room now asked. The name stung. Why was she calling him that? Shouldn't she call him Z'kor? He reached out for the mind of the brown dragon. He couldn't find it. There were only threads of his mind that led to… emptiness.

"Zieerth!" he cried, hoping to get the brown's attention by physically calling the name. "Zikor," another voice said. It was Rihanna, looking quite sober. Zikor looked over at her, and she sighed, looking away. "Zikor…. Zieerth is gone… The flames were too much… You fell and he /between/ed," Rihanna said. "No… no!" Zikor cried. And he broke down and sobbed. Zikor was gone.


	2. Things Are Tied Together

_Mortan Hold (Minor to Cuhmesc) Present Day_

Zikor hadn't been near the Weyr in the five Turns since Zieerth had passed /between/ in the accident. He could not bear to face C'zan, whose copper had been the one to blast his brown away into nothingness. Rihanna had brought him to Mortan Hold when he had been deemed fit to fly /between/. It had felt so odd to once again only be able to ride on a dragon that was not his own. Zikor had known he would not be able to handle life in the Weyr after all that had been taken from him, robbed by fate.

He had sulked for quite some time, slinking through the halls of the small, minor Hold. There had been a few children always running around and some boys his age. But the then seventeen Turn old had wanted nothing to do with any of them. Every face brought back some memory, and he was haunted by them. As most ex-riders did, he became a shadow of his formal self. He was soon considered as crotchety as any of the older men in the Hold. Not to mention the Holder had not been at all very pleased that he seemed to bother people by his gloomy presence. Rihanna had visited occasionally, but a rift had formed between he and the young Weyrwoman because Zikor could not stand to see dragons anymore.

Zikor eventually moved out of the Hold. He moved into the hills not far from the Hold, but far enough away that he became cut off unless he wanted to be known. He only went to the Hold to pick up a month's worth of supplies, and even then it was a short and relatively silent visit. A few words were exchanged, but other than that Zikor was practically a ghost in the Hold. In those five years he had lost all will to live, and yet he kept on living. He lived as half of himself, a ghost of the man he had formerly been. When Zieerth had died, so had a good portion of Zikor the person, the man who had once so loved to be at the Weyr.

Nowadays, Zikor is commonly known as the crazed, wild man who lives in the hills. No one thinks much of him at all.

Crian was a young Greenrider at Misuri Weyr. She was also the youngest daughter and child of the Lord of Mortan Hold, Lord Crikkon, which meant frequent visits back to Mortan Hold to visit her parents. Well, there would be frequent visits now. She had only just finished off her Weyrling Lessons, and so she was now able to fly back and forth from Weyr to Hold so she could visit them. They were looking forward to her first visit.

Crian was packing up for it now. This would be an extended visit. Thanks to the fact that Thread no longer fell to ravage Pern, she could do so. Crian had to admit that even though she had done a lot of pleading with her parents to allow her to go to the Weyr, she had still missed home to a point. Hopefully her brothers had grown out of tormenting her by now. After all, they were both much older now, and training in the way they would live out their lives.

Echcheith was her green partner. The green dragoness was small in stature just as Crian was. The two seemed to fit together in that aspect of their life. Ech had seemed to fill the position of Crian's guiding force. The green definitely had taken to the job of motivating her rider into coming out of her shell. It hadn't worked in its entirety, as Crian was still a shy, quiet girl, but it was starting to take effect. This would help her, as long as certain invariable factors that would come further down the road.

"All finished," Crian said, closing up her traveling sack, ready to leave. _I'm ready to go whenever you are,_ Ech commented from her weyrledge. "I'm glad you are, as we should get going. My parents are expecting us," she said with a sigh. She picked up the bag, ready to head to the ledge and get the riding straps on Ech. The green was waiting, as patient as ever. _They will be glad when you get there, regardless of when you arrive, _Ech commented. "Yes, but I don't think that they would thank me if I showed up in the middle of the night," Crian responded with a sigh. "It'll be good to see them again. Perhaps I'll even be happy to see my brothers." Crian took the riding straps off their pegs, and placed them on Ech with a delicate hand.

"Let's go," Crian said, tying her bag between two of Ech's ridges and mounting the dragoness. _Sounds fine to me,_ Ech commented. The green jumped off her ledge, pumping her wings to ascend into the sky. Crian fixed the coordinates of the minor Hold in her mind, every detail she could remember of the Hold she had lived in for the first fifteen Turns of her life. The hills, gently sloping as they were, dotted with a few caves. The Hold proper, with its solid appearance, and the stables that held many runnerbeasts, all memories she was glad to embrace once more. She gave the image to Echcheith, and the green used them to take the two /between/.

Crian looked down on Mortan Hold, eyes glowing in happiness as she looked on it. The Hold seemed so much the same, even if it had changed in the two Turns she had been gone. She took a deep breath, inhaling as much of the sweet air as she could in that one breath. Home… That title no longer could belong to the Hold. It belonged to the Weyr now. Mortan still held a spot in her heart that could be filled by no other place though.

Echcheith angled her wings so that she descended in a lazy circle, allowing her presence to catch the eye of most the people currently working outside. Crian smiled. Sure enough the presence of the green was already being run to her father, letting him know that a dragon was coming to the Hold. The Holderbrats would be coming out with their mothers, pointing at the dragon in awe. The young boys who wanted to ride a dragon would come as well, thinking that she was on Search. She was not, so there would be a group of disappointed young men, but the looks on her parents' faces was what she cared about. She wanted to see them again, badly.

Echcheith landed in a courtyard of the Hold, folding her wings neatly to her sides like a prim and proper lady. She crouched, allowing Crian to slip off and bring her bag with her. As she turned the first of her welcoming party came out in the form of her eldest brother, Mikon. Mikon was the heir to Mortan, and would most likely succeed her father in the holding of Mortan. "Sis, looks like the letters were true and you did Impress," he said, smiling as he walked towards her. "What did you expect?" she asked him as they met and embraced. "Nothing short of Impression, you know. We all believed in you," he responded. "I'm glad," she said in response, glad to see him.

The next to arrived were her parents, Lord Crikkon and Lady Mirian. They came out and embraced her. "We're so glad to see you," her mother said, holding her close. "I'm glad to see you as well," she responded. _I am going to go find a ledge to sun on,_ Echcheith told Crian, fanning her wings. "That's fine," she murmured aloud. The green took off, looking for somewhere warm to sun her hide. Crian watched her smiling. "So that is the glorious Echcheith?" her father asked. "Yes, that is Ech. She really is marvelous, isn't she?" she responded.

The group of people slowly pulled themselves from their happy reunion to head inside the Hold and to show Crian her rooms. They were the rooms she had dwelled in the last few years she had lived in Mortan, and it added to the feeling of being home and being welcomed. Ech was snoozing on her ledge when Crian was finally left to rest for a bit. Crian reveled in the short time of privacy she would get before all manner of people would come to welcome her home. It was one of the many pains she had to deal with, coming home to the Hold her father was Lord of. She would deal with it all, then she would get some time alone, well, more than she had now.

Ech was snoozing on a hill not far from Mortan Hold. The hill was gently sloping and had a few caves that allowed for small dwellings or shelters, or that could be made into cotholds later on should they want to. Someone lived in that hill. Thus things were tied together.


	3. An Unpleasant Conversation

Author's Note:

This is not a canon story! If you don't like noncanon (which means different colors, different Holds and Weyrs, different timelines, etc.), then don't read the story. If you are willing to have an open mind I do not mind, but do not read my story and bash it for being noncanon.

And to all who have reviewed: Thank you for your comments and constructive criticisms (for the most part). I am so very glad that I have so many comments and people who seem interested in my first real fanfiction.

That's all for now, thanks again.

_Mortan Hold_

Dinner was a time for gossip. Dinner was a time when everyone caught up the latest tasty bits of news and passed them along with their own interpretation. This standing tradition was not passed up in Mortan Hold, and this was how Crian found out numerous things about what had gone on in the two Turns that she had been gone away at Misuri Weyr.

She had felt that this was going to be the case when she walked in to the dining hall that evening, wearing a rather simple and plain dress as she did to most of the very informal dinners. There were plenty of women, young and old, who liked to trade their word for someone else's. Crian normally disliked the gossip that passed around, but tonight she figured it would be a somewhat good way of getting back into the swing of things and finding out things that she certainly should know. Crian was not sure how accurate the information would be, but she could always cross-reference them later when she got a chance to talk to one of her brothers. They would be useful enough in that respect. They always were.

Crian headed towards the Head table of the hall. As Lord Holder's daughter, she was allowed to sit there. Her mother and father were already there, as well as a few of the other higher ups who lived in the Hold. Crian noted each person there with a vague curiosity. She noted that there was a young woman who was sitting there, and decided she would be a good person to ask about gossip. She just seemed the type to know what was going on in the Hold, and what everyone was chatting about as they went about their tasks. If she didn't, she'd find someone who would know.

Crian walked up to the table, and took a seat rather quietly next to the young woman. She seemed about her age, give or take a few Turns. She wore a fine dress of a rich bronze in hue. Her hair was a mix of blonde and brunette, and her eyes were a soft hazel in color. She seemed to be high of blood or rank, possibly both. She was new to Mortan, and Crian had never met her. Which made the normally shy Greenrider feel a bit apprehensive of saying anything to the woman, and so she remained silent for a few moments. She sighed. She really needed to grow a back bone, as someone had once told her.

"I heard the Lord Holder's daughter was coming home to visit her. The way they talked about you I thought you were more than a mere Greenrider," the woman said to her after a moment. "And not much a green at that. She's the size of a white almost, quite sad," she added.

Crian looked over at the young woman, quite shocked and a bit angered at the comments about her dragon, and her size. Like she could say she'd even been looked at oddly by a Searchdragon. Crian felt the uncommon sensation of wanting to lash back at the woman. Ech was one subject she would not tolerate being insulted. Ech was a beautiful little green, and Crian loved her. "Excuse me, but may I ask who you are?" Crian asked her, covering anger easily with a light, almost airy voice.

"Oh, I am Litoya. My parents fostered me here from Lraithin, and it's a mistake if I've ever seen one," the woman responded. "Your parents are kind enough, and your eldest brother is a bit of a looker, but the Hold is small and no one really pays heed to it. Not to mention, there's that horrible man Zikor who lives in the hills like a wild man," she explained, nearly laughing at the mention of the man.

Crian remembered who Zikor was, as the ex-rider had come to Mortan when she was about 12 Turns. The man had scared her at first, and she still did have a certain amount of fear of the man. She hadn't realized he'd moved into the hills though. That must have happened in her absence. "Zikor was a dragonrider. He lost his dragon, and I don't suppose you have any idea what that can do to a person. He is alive, something few people who lost there dragons could ever handle," Crian said, finding it odd she was defending a man she feared.

"That doesn't excuse him for acting the way he does," Litoya responded. "He lives in the hills in a little cavern. His hair is a mess and it looks as if he hasn't cut his hair in ages, though he does shave for some reason. I wonder if he even bathes. He only comes 'round the Hold once a month to gather supplies, and then disappears again," she said, her voice holding contempt.

Crian sighed. There would be no changing this young woman's mind about the subject. Obviously she disliked the man. "He has gone through a lot. I can't pretend to know why he acts the way he does," Crian responded simply, not sure what else she could say.

"I'm sure he has, but I wouldn't be paid to spend a day with that man," Litoya said in response. "Sure enough he wants to be alone. I don't know why anyone would bother trying to befriend him. He probably would just turn them away anyhow. He only speaks in grunts when he comes for his supplies," Litoya added.

Crian sighed, and they both lapsed into silence. Crian ate without another word to the woman who seemed to have a hatred for anything that was different and not something considered "right". Crian took the time to think about Zikor. She knew he'd been a mess when he'd come to Mortan. A goldrider had brought him and dropped him off at the Hold. She had talked to her father for quite some time. Then the goldrider had talked to him, and then mounted her gold and been on her way. Crian wondered if he had deteriorated even more since his coming to Mortan.

While Crian was eating her dinner in the fine hall of Mortan Hold, Zikor had been cooking up a rather meager meal in the cavern he inhabited in the Hold. The ex-dragonrider had set up a small sort of cothold in the cave. It suited his purposes, and allowed him to stay away from everything. He had no desire to be a part of any of it. The people in the Hold didn't understand, and the people in the Weyr were sympathetic enough but he could not stand to be around the dragons. Dragons made him remember Zieerth…. And when he remembered Zieerth he had to struggle with himself not to take his belt knife and drive it through his heart.

Zikor had noticed the green dragon that had appeared from /between/ and flown overhead earlier that day. Thankfully, he'd been away from any means of suicide. The green dragon's presence had brought him back to the days of his own dragonrider-hood. Now, he was stuck on the ground, his own two feet his only means of transportation. The ex-dragonrider had wanted severely to command the Greenrider leave, and had been inclined to do so.

But he had heard news the sevenday before when he'd gone to get his monthly supplies that the Lord Holder's daughter was a Greenrider, and should be coming to the Hold for a visit soon. He remembered the young girl, or he thought it was that young girl. Timid little thing, she had been. He had run into her in the halls once, and she had merely stared up at him quietly until he had brushed by, leaving her standing there. Zikor was surprised she was a dragonrider, if that was how she was. Nevertheless, she was a dragonrider now, and that was probably her green and her riding it. Plans of demanding they leave were thrown out the window.

It was quite the final straw in Zikor's mind when he walked out that evening and could see, on the hill not too far from his cavern, the green dragon snoozing as if she owned the hills. Zikor would talk to the young Greenrider. She may be the Lord Holder's daughter, but he would make her make that green dragon of hers roost somewhere else. He couldn't bear to sit there and look at her for however long she was there, as it brought back the painful memories of the dragon he longer had.

And at moments like that, he reached out to fumble with the strands of his mind that had been attached to the brown. They were there, ripped and frayed. Empty. Zikor stalked back into his cavern, and once out of the view of anyone or anything, he broke down in tears at the remembrance of his beloved brown.


End file.
